


The Final Vow

by AJs Bunny (agentj)



Category: E.W. Hornung's Raffles series
Genre: Fellatio (implied), M/M, POV First Person, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentj/pseuds/AJs%20Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raffles keeps a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Vow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble request by [](http://violetjimjams.livejournal.com/profile)[**violetjimjams**](http://violetjimjams.livejournal.com/) for post-"To Catch a Thief" TLC from Raffles to Bunny. I added a twist to it.

> ### Timeframe:
> 
>   
> "Maturin" days, post-CATC; mentions of FATE; Ham Common days, post-KNEE

  


  


> _Yet don't you run away with the idea that this poor Faustina was the only woman I ever cared about. I don't believe in all that "only" rot...._

My Dearest Bunny—

No doubt you have returned to England without me, old chap, and found this missive written in your composition book. I write it as you slumber before the miles we must travel together to the ends of the earth—and my destiny. For I know, unlike you, I shan't return.

Don't weep for me, dear Bunny, when you think of the days that are no more. I was not the sainted ruffian you made me out to be. But neither am I the villainous cur as I viewed myself. I know that now, Bunny—because of you.

Do you remember, Bunny? That terrible night I had left you, and you took the brunt of my way-laid plans at the hands of Lord Ernest Belville. I had been a cocky bastard that night, as you often reminded me of it. I remind you of it now Bunny, for I needs must make a confession to you.

I had brought you in from that torrential storm, both of us soaked to the bone. When I joined you down the staircase and put my hands on your shoulders, I felt your body tremble at my touch. My poor Bunny! The evening had gone from bad to worse, and you took the brunt of it, thanks by my doing. I came round to peer down at you as a flash of light illuminated our rooms. I shan't forget the pinched look on your face until the day I die.

I confess I worried that you had seen what I had done, Bunny. It terrified me more than the thought of having the darbies clapped on me, or of seeing Inspector Mackenzie's gloating grin upon me again. The thought that you had seen my evil deed put me in such a spin, Bunny. I remember just standing there saying your name, afraid you would reject me if I tried to touch you. My mind went in a thousand different directions as doubt set in, but in an instant you dispelled each and every one of them when you lunged forward and held me tight, sobbing against my chest.

Oh, Bunny. Sweet Bunny. My most innocent and trusting rabbit.

I held you that night as you wept in my arms, and silently I wept with you.

In the cloak of darkness, I undressed you and pressed warm lips to your skin. With every caress, I sealed my unspoken vow. In the clamour of the storm that raged outside, I drew out the poison from your body with my mouth. With every taste, I sang my joyous song with yours. When I felt your body soothed, I laid you to rest and watched you slumber by the light of my cigarette.

The promise I made to you that night, I now fulfill.

I had sworn myself to never tell you the dark truths I had lived those two years without you when I fled from the law into the arms of Fate. Despite that I had left you to your own miserable fate—eighteen months of solitude in that grey desolate prison, I would not have you blaming yourself for what really happened to me on the Island of Elba. I swore I would never tell you the truth, so instead I told you a lie. I have spoken so many of them; they pass so easily through my lips.

But now, Bunny, you deserve the truth.

I can't—I won't—tell you all I suffered at the hands of Count Corbucci. Only believe me that the death he suffered will never amount to the suffering he caused. I will also tell you that Lord Ernest Belville was not the first man I killed. But his was the last.

And most importantly—

There was no Faustina.

There is only you, Bunny. Only you.


End file.
